


Counted Numbers and Algebraic Equations

by WhatTheHurley (orphan_account)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:19:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/WhatTheHurley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah, yeah, I can see you want to start on your secret mathlete practice. Just tell me you don't beat off to quadratic equations.”<br/>“It's none of your business what I 'beat off' to.”<br/>“Oh my God, you do, don't you.”</p>
<p>In which there are jocks and mathletes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counted Numbers and Algebraic Equations

**Author's Note:**

> this is a lil thing for jaxx!! we made up this entire mathlete!Andy au thing, and it's p swell,,

“Just, carry the exponent over to the other side, addition of the opposite to the matching variable. It's simple algebra, it's not that hard of a concept.”

It was nearly nine, stars already rising from their nightly trip around the Earth. Andy had school tomorrow, and a mathletes meeting, and school. He didn't need to spend his time like this.

“Wait, it went negative. It shouldn't be negative, right? Can't I just see what the answer is at the back of the book?”

Andy rolled his eyes. “There is no 'back of the book' in exams, Stump. You have to keep above a C- and more than an eighteen on exams to keep your _magical_ football career up and running.”

Patrick looked over to him with doe eyes, staring at his facial features, every inch. Andy wanted to tell him to stop staring, to punch him in the face, but he didn't know how to punch someone, so his own face only went hot.

“There's a back of the book if I take my notes.”

“That's called cheating.”

“It's not cheating if no one knows about it.”

“Oh my _God_ , I'll know about it! You just freaking told me!”

Patrick finally looked away, running a hand through his feathered hair. “I don't...I just don't _get_ this. If it's positive, why to I add a negative? And if the exponents negative, why do I have to make it a fraction so it's positive again? It's all a weird number soup that I don't _get_ , Hurley.”

Andy felt a pang of sympathy in his chest, like a single pluck of a guitar string. “I...I mean. We can go over it again, if you need to. There's more examples, and I can look some up.”

Patrick nodded, his brows still knitted in anger as he looked over the numbers again, and again, and once more. Andy just talked the lesson over again, hoping Patrick was paying some type of attention to something he was saying.

Twice. Three times over the lesson. Patrick still stared at the same problem, unable to understand anything he was writing. His foot tapped a steady beat in thought, or frustration. Andy couldn't pick it out. Maybe a mixture of both.

“Okay, okay, you know what? You wanna know what Hurley?” Andy looked up from his own math book, staring at Patrick's knuckles as the went white around his pencil. “I'm dumb, you're smart. You know math, hell you're on a _team_ for math nerds!” Patrick shoved his book over, running a few papers off of the table. “Do it, I'll do my best to follow. I'll stop you if I need something.”

Patrick shoved himself up, making his way to a spot right in Andy's blind spot, right at his neck, staring straight over. He could feel Patrick's breath, and he was sure he could punch and somehow only break one or two fingers.

“I...Uh-uh...” Andy knew this wasn't the time to go into 'I'm-gonna-punch-you-because-you're-too-close-for-me-to-keep-this-crush-thing-a-secret' but he couldn't help it. He was a teenager.

“Look, the stuttering's all cute and school girl crush worthy and all, but it's not gonna help me in math. _Please_ dude, I can't fail,” Andy felt the words at his ear, and felt the back of his neck heat up. And his shoulders. And his entire being lit up in his own, self loathed embarrassment.

“Um...I-uh...okay, so, you just, take that over here,” Andy felt Patrick's chin hit his shoulder as he nodded, seeming to be following, “and if-if addition of the opposite it to hard, subtract the positives and add the negatives?” Patrick nodded again, and Andy wondered if he could knock someone out like those guys do in the movie, where they send their fist right by their own head and send the guy down.

“So, you should get j-j to the eighteenth power times 6 times h to the third, be-because we added the alike variables, to simplify it to the greatest extent.”

Patrick stood quiet for a moment, staring at the paper with brows frowning. “How do you do this on the spot? Like, shit, people say mathletes aren't real athletes. You guys have to do some hard work.”

Andy nodded, his head accidentally knocking back into Patrick's, who still stood _right_ behind him.

“Ye-Yeah, so, um...are we done here? Do you have this or-or not?”

“Geeze, tone down on the stutters. T-T-Today junior!” Patrick laughed loudly, a fake, forced laugh at his own petty joke. He slapped a hand hard to Andy's back, which he jumped a bit to.

Patrick began sliding things into his back pack, refusing to fix the papers, and causing them to be crushed under his math book. “Yeah, yeah, I can see you want to start on your secret mathlete practice. Just tell me you don't beat off to quadratic equations.”

“It's none of your business what I 'beat off' to.”

“Oh my God, you do, don't you.”

Andy placed a hand to Patrick's chest, and shoved him towards his door. “Okay, okay, enough for the night. Leave, go, enough tutoring. See you at school.”

“Hey, hey, wait,” Andy stopped himself in his door frame, staring at Patrick who stood at his door step. “I...I wanna come to one of your mathlete things. I wanna see you compete.”

Andy stared at him, wide eyed. “Are you sure? It's boring. It's just us listing of answers for two hours and yes-ing to each other when he get more points then the other team.” _Which is always_ almost slipped out, but Andy caught himself.

“I don't care. If you come to my football games, I wanna come to your mathlete games.”

* * *

Patrick did come, to one right in their auditorium against a school two towns over.

Trohman automatically stared at him in a mixture of anger, annoyance, and disbelief when they walked in with each other, Patrick sporting one of the few mathletes shirts they had made with money from everyone on the team. Patrick specifically bought the one with 'Hurley' across the shoulder blades.

“If he messes you up, he's _never_ coming to a meet again.”

Andy didn't miss one question.

 


End file.
